Page 72 of Feel Free to Scream

Frankly? That’s a relief. I part my lips as much as I can, opening wide.

I don’t know why exactly, but the moment he pushes into my mouth, my core contracts, stimulated, although he’s not really touching me in a way that should bring me any pleasure. This is about him. But I find it arousing all the same. I remember his advice to breathe through my nose, and let him shove it all the way down, although it’s tight and uncomfortable. I’m slobbering all over it.

My hands were on the wet shower floor, but it’s awkward, and I’m losing my balance, so I bring them to the back of his thighs. They slide of their own volition to his taut, muscular ass as he rams his cock in and out of my throat, fast, hard.

My pussy tightens when he hisses. “Fuck yeah.”

I…like this.

“Your mouth feels like heaven, Claire.”

I like how I make him feel. The fact that I can make him moan and make all those noises he wrenches out of me when he touches me.

It’s not me as such, I’m just the object he fucks. His cum dumpster. But I like it all the same.

I can feel his ass getting harder, tighter, and he withdraws from my throat, grasping his cock, and pumping it twice. Knowing what’s coming, I react on instinct. He was about to spray my face with his cum, but I bring my mouth to the tip, and suck.

Keller’s fist moves from his cock to my hair, and he pulls it backward, forcing me to lift my gaze to his.

There’s something savage in his eyes.

“Fuck,” he says, in a grunt.

And then there’s thick, salty, warm goo on my tongue.

Letting go of my hair, he runs his fingers over my scalp and repeats, “Fuck.”

My mouth is full, so some of his cum dribbles down my face anyway. He pushes it off with his thumb.

I stand in silence, and lather more of the fancy, designer soap in my hands. At least I was already in the shower before he made me filthy.

I’m half surprised Keller stays here. When I’m ready to walk out of the shower, he hands me a large fluffy towel—though he honestly needs it more than me at this point.

I’m drying myself when he finally speaks. “Anything you need, you ask me. Not my father, not my sister. Me.”

“I didn’t ask for anything!” I protest immediately. “Arlo just said I should take one of the cars lying around—that they were there for the staff. Lisa agreed. Besides, I didn’tneeda car.”

“You’re not driving the help’s car,” he retorts unequivocally. “I’ll take you shopping for a ride tomorrow.”

I gape. “What the fuck? I like the Audi. It’s a great car. And I don’t need a brand-new one.”

“You’ll drive what I tell you to drive.”

My temper’s rising. “I’m not going to drive some crazy, unsafe thing I can’t even handle. I’m eighteen. I’ve been driving my grandma’s shitty, slow car for two years. The Audi is perfect, and I am keeping it.”

It occurs to me that it’s the first time I’m that firm about…well, anything. So far, he’s told me how this thing between us was going to work, and I’ve accepted it. But really? A brand-new car, just because he wants to be the one in charge, the one who controls and chooses what I do?

In truth, I haven’t minded so far. The room’s great. I love most of his decisions.

But I like the car. It’s a cute baby blue.

“Fine.”

I lift my eyes to his, baffled. He backed off?

“Really?”

He sighs. “If you like the car that much, whatever. But I’d really rather not hear from someone else that you have a need you haven’t fulfilled when that’s my part of our bargain. I define need not as the strict necessities for survival, but at whatever you should have to make your life pleasant, easy, and fulfilling. Youneededa car. Clear?”

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